


Slithered Here From Eden

by aisydays



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, Nonbinary Character, Other, Pride, Spoilers for Good Omens (2019), both of those should be plural tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 18:04:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19178584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisydays/pseuds/aisydays
Summary: In which Aziraphale has been newly enlightened and Crowley discovers something new about himself and his favourite angel





	Slithered Here From Eden

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Good Omens fic as, despite having read the book about fifty times, it took watching the show to finally get me to write fic for it! It's basically a mix of TV show and book canon in that I took my favourite bits from the show and added in my favourite running jokes from the book. 
> 
> If anyone is interested in reading more of my fics, or just wants to chat about these wonderful and ineffable husbands, my tumblr is shutupeiffel and my ask box is always open!
> 
> Title taken from Hozier's song 'From Eden' which has Big Good Omens vibes (and is also a very good song)

“I hate June.” Crowley said, apropos of nothing.

When he received nothing more than a vaguely interested hum from Aziraphale, the demon sighed, rearranged the carefully constructed pose of absolute disinterest he was attempting on one of the bookshop’s armchairs.

“It’s too hot” he declared, lounging across the arm of the chair like a cat who had suddenly been given human form and didn’t quite know what to do with all these limbs. This, at last, got a response from the angel, who had been completely absorbed in his first edition copy of Lady Windermere’s Fan signed, of course, by the author. (1)

“I thought hell was supposed to be hot. Surely you’re used to it by now.”

Crowley scoffed. “Angel, you’ve been to hell.”

“Huh. So I have”

With that Aziraphale returned to his book, much to Crowley’s annoyance. Defeated, he rose from the chair and started stalking around the bookshop, looking for something he could move a couple of centimetres away from its original position, or some dust he could draw demonic sigils in for a laugh. As he passed the (no doubt incredibly rare and expensive) copies of Carmilla and the works of Emily Dickinson, Crowley noticed the display that had sprung up in the window of A. Z. Fell & Co.

Generally speaking, Aziraphale was totally against themed window displays. He was in fact, convinced they were an invention of Crowley’s side, along with novelty holiday songs and starting to sell Christmas ornaments in October (2) 

This, combined with the fact that his bookshop existed less as a source of income (which he didn’t need anyway) and more as storage for his collection (which he did need), meant that Crowley was fairly certain that in the 219 years that the shop had been open, Aziraphale had never had so much as a fake snowflake in the large windows.

And yet, the piles of antique books piled in the window were currently covered in garlands of colourful flags. A quick glance told Crowley they definitely weren’t from any country he recognised, and besides, it wasn’t like there was any particular reason for Aziraphale to celebrate globalisation.

Crowley stood staring at the window for a while, trying desperately to work out the meaning of the decorations, until the shop’s owner finally looked up from his book and noticed his friend’s confusion. He gently closed his book, removed the white cotton gloves he always wore when reading his favourite volumes, and walked over to join Crowley by the window.

“I see you’re admiring my new display?” he asked, reaching over to straighten one of the flags that had gotten caught on a copy of Great Expectations. It seemed to be a standard rainbow, with an extra two lines at the top in black and brown respectively. Crowley’s brow furrowed as he tried to remember exactly where he’d seen the design before, but it was eluding him.

“It’s very colourful” he said absentmindedly, almost too wrapped up in his musings to catch the beaming smile on the angel’s face. “What’s it in aid of again?”

This time he couldn’t miss the slight slump of Aziraphale’s shoulders. “Well it’s… it’s for Pride, you know!”

Crowley scoffed. “Really, angel? Don’t tell me one of Heaven’s own is promoting one of the deadly sins! What next, a display celebrating Sloth? I will say, I think that might be my personal favourite, maybe I could lend a hand-“

He was interrupted by a sharp smack on the arm from Aziraphale, although the smile that had crept back onto the other being’s face betrayed the affection behind his actions.

“It’s not that kind of pride. It’s… more of, well, a celebration, really. A defiant protest in the face of the heterosexual oppression…” Aziraphale trailed off as he took in Crowley’s raised eyebrows and barely contained laughter. He had always secretly loved it when the angel got all morally outraged, and that righteous fire started burning behind his eyes. It reminded him that there was some good left in this world, no matter how hard he and his tried to extinguish it. It was a strangely comforting thought. Didn’t stop him from making fun of Aziraphale, but hey, he was a demon, what was he supposed to do?

“Do you feel particularly oppressed by the heterosexuals then? Is the famed homosexual agenda part of the Great Plan?” he joked, stepping over behind Aziraphale and leaning over so his chin rested on the top of the angel’s head. Physical contact was a… relatively new thing they were trying out, after the disaster that was the failed apocalypse somehow brought them closer together. Besides, disguising himself as Aziraphale had made Crowley acutely aware of the height difference between the two of them, and it was practically his duty to exploit that in any way possible.

Aziraphale humphed indignantly, leaning back into Crowley’s touch as he did. “Well, not _exactly_ , but it’s a show of support! Besides, there’s more than just two options you know.” As he spoke Crowley, who took Aziraphale’s movements as a sign he was enjoying just as much as the demon was, folded his arms across the back of Aziraphale’s neck, allowing his hands to dangle down gently and brush against the neatly pressed lapels of his jacket.

“Oh really?” he said, his genuine interest bleeding through the affected apathy he was trying to project. Even here, with the person he had trusted for 6,000 years, who he would go (and had gone) through hell for, it was hard not to put up defences. Especially when he’d been straining against the restraints of narrow-minded human definitions of sexuality for as long as they had had such petty restrictions. “Tell me more about these options then, angel”

Aziraphale launched into an explanation of every flag on his bunting, going into excruciating detail for every single one. Apparently he’d met a “very sweet girl” the other day who had introduced him to the concept because, despite owning a shop in Soho for the last two centuries, all this had mostly passed him by. Not to mention the worry that an angel openly celebrating something called “Pride” might not go down too well with the higher ups. But, seeing as how that wasn’t exactly an issue anymore, Aziraphale had thrown himself headfirst into the whole business with the same enthusiasm he usually reserved for helping other people and discovering new restaurants.

While he listened to the angel's impromptu speech, Crowley couldn’t help but notice that there were a couple of flags that kept cropping up, more so than any other (aside, of course, from the traditional rainbow – even Crowley knew what that stood for). They had fairly similar colour schemes, with both being made up of horizontal stripes of purple, black, and white, but where one had a grey stripe, the other had a bright yellow, and the order was slightly different. Aziraphale was busy explaining the nuances of the lesbian community when Crowley interrupted him.

“Those two. The ones with the black and white and purple. What do they stand for?”

He was surprised to see a slight blush tinging across Aziraphale's cheeks at the question. He’d been so forthcoming with the other definitions that it seemed odd that these two in particular would provoke such a reaction.

“W-well... Those two are... particularly special for me” Aziraphale's blush deepened with every word but as he continued to speak his voice grew more steady, more confident. “You know how angels – and demons I assume, although I don’t think I've ever asked – don’t really, well, have a gender? We just kind of pick a human form and stick with it? Well, apparently that’s something else we share with humans. Or, some of them, anyway. See this one here?”

He picked up one of the flags with the yellow stripe and twirled it nervously between his fingers and he continued to speak.

“Well, the humans had to express this idea _somehow_ , you know what they’re like with their labels and categories, so this one is for those people. Non-binary they call it. For people like us.”

He paused and turned his head to look at Crowley. The look in his eyes betrayed the fact that whatever expression was currently on Crowley’s face, it certainly wasn’t the neutral one he was hoping for.

“Are you alright, my dear boy?”

“Fine.” Crowley said sharply, not trusting his voice not to crack under the pressure of all these emotions he was feeling. His arm unfolded from where it was resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder and he quickly plucked one of the purple striped flags from the display, poking the angel gently in the cheek as a means of deflection, obviously, and absolutely not as an affectionate gesture. (3) 

What’s this one then? Another of your particular favourites?” His words came out with rather less bite than he had hoped for, approximating something that could have been genuine interest. Judging by the soft smile on Aziraphale’s face, it had been noticed.

“Another angelic concept that the humans share apparently. Asexuality. Our lot have absolutely no interest in that sort of thing you know. Well, apparently some do if they really make the effort, but I've personally never seen the point. Of course, it’s probably very different for demons I assume?”

Crowley cleared his throat abruptly, as it had suddenly become surprisingly tight. “I wouldn’t know. Never had any interest in... that stuff either.” Aziraphale’s shocked expression was the only thing stopping him from spiralling down into his thoughts, the revelations now becoming clear to him, the overwhelming feeling of “oh shit he’s like me”. The point of contact between their bodies was like an anchor for him, grounding him in the moment. Even as Aziraphale carefully extricated himself from Crowley’s embrace, turning himself to face the demon head on, he kept his hand on top of Crowley’s, their fingers entwined as the angel squeezes his grip softly but firmly, reassuring in its presence.

Later they would talk. Later Crowley would explain how he’d always revelled in the space between gender, tiny acts of rebellion against human society. Later Aziraphale, after several glasses of wine, would bemoan how obsessed humanity was with sex, how he “really did feel for the ones like us, y’know, poor things”. And even later than that, on a (suspiciously) sunny day in July, outside an antique bookshop in Soho, two beings who could be easily mistaken as men stood, enjoying the excitement and joy of the people around them as they celebrated, hands clasped tightly together.

But for now, we leave Aziraphale and Crowley standing in a bookshop, silently sharing in the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Footnotes:  
> 1\. Rumours that Crowley had brought it for him were completely unfounded. As were the rumours that he paid for it by taking Mr Wilde out for dinner. The dinner was simply a show of support and the book was a token of appreciation. That’s what he told Aziraphale anyway  
> 2\. Interestingly, he was correct about one of those  
> 3\. Demons were particularly good at lying to other people. They were absolutely awful at lying to themselves. Or rather, Crowley was particularly bad at it


End file.
